and the fire that is starting to go out
by WickedSong
Summary: She didn't shout and she didn't scream. She didn't feel anything at all. It was like she wasn't wanted all over again or a third gunshot to her stomach. It was only her, this hallway and the door.
1. Skye

**and the fire that is starting to go out**

**written by wickedsong.**

**Disclaimer/Note: I don't own AoS. Look at me being all edgy with my lowercase title (from New York by Snow Patrol; which didn't actually inspire this short thing in any way but it's just a really good song). Anyway, I've had this idea - possibly due to the combination of songs that aren't not New York by Snow Patrol and my general love of angst. I may write a companion piece but I'll see how you guys enjoy this one first. Don't hate me too much, 'kay?**

* * *

If she's honest, she had never thought it would end like _this_.

She's been shot before. Twice. She knows pain. She knew it before that and she knew it after and she knows it now.

A door stands in her way. He stands on the other side, because it's the only way to protect her. If there's one thing he has always tried to do, it is protect her; protect everyone. Because that's who he is; who he's always been.

(She's protected him too; sometimes, maybe in the smaller and quiet ways that they both don't quite understand but they still appreciate; but there's no way she can do that now).

FitzSimmons shout at her to _come on _but she can't move. She keeps looking at the door that lowered before she could reach him. She held her hand out, told him to run like FitzSimmons are telling her now. But he took the only option that a defender can. He pushed her hand away; their fingers brushing for a cruel moment before he opened fire, as the door slammed in front of her.

He was making a last stand for them, for her. Stupid, noble, _brave_.

She didn't shout and she didn't scream. She didn't feel anything at all. It was like she wasn't wanted all over again or a third gunshot to her stomach. It was only her, this hallway and the door.

A step forward and she touches the door carefully. She's searches for his hand but she can't find it and maybe this is the worst kind of pain.

_Maybe if she wishes really hard._

No wishes, no ifs or buts or maybes because it's only a door.

Her comm buzzes, and there's breathing over the line. It's laboured and ragged. She already knows what's coming, but she speaks anyway.

"You shouldn't have done that."

FitzSimmons still hover behind her, keeping a look out for May and Coulson who should be arriving for them any time soon.

_Just a moment more. Please._

"You're safe aren't you?"

She swallows. She's safe. She's an 0-8-4 and she's safe, away from any of the people who would wish to do her harm.

"I didn't need you to protect me, Grant."

When she doesn't hear anything she thinks that she's lost the connection already.

"No. You didn't. But I _wanted_ to protect you, Skye."

_Do you mean Skye the Person or Skye the 0-8-4?_

"It was my choice."

_Skye the Person._

"How bad is it?"

She'd rather know now than later but it's the one question he doesn't answer.

_Maybe it's for the best._

"Please, Ward, I-"

Her hand still rests on the door and she wonders if she could just will it away.

"It's cold."

He's preparing her. He's her S.O. Of course he has to prepare her.

"I'm sorry."

"_I'm_ sorry."

She's puzzled. What could he possibly be sorry about in this situation?

"There are…so many things I should have…I should have…"

_Regrets are a poison she's had too much of. _

_He can't be another one._

"It's okay, Grant, I know."

She hears a weak laugh over the line. She smiles in spite of the way her body shakes.

_You and I see the world differently is all._

_ one_

_I am trying to protect you._

_ two_

_I believe you._

_ three_

_"_Skye, I-_"_

_Maybe he'll make it._

The comm goes dead.


	2. Ward

**and the fire that is starting to go out,**

**written by wickedsong.**

**Disclaimer/Note: In the first part. So this is a companion to the first part, and, as you can imagine, it is from Ward's POV on the other side of the door. I don't have that much to say, except please don't hate me (again), okay?**

* * *

The minute he pushes the button to the door, he knows it's the last time he'll see her face. She tries to pull him with her and their hands brush but he pushes her back at the last minute, slamming the button and bringing the door down between them.

She looks shocked, eyes wide, a question dying on her lips and he can only afford her an apologetic look. She has to know why he's doing this. He hears footsteps, running down the corridor towards him, and knows he only has a second to consider his options.

There's only one.

_Please forgive me._

When all is said and done, he knows he's dying. He knows that Coulson and May will find Skye and FitzSimmons and they'll get them as far away from here as possible. Maybe that makes it better. He knows she'll be safe.

The taste of blood is filling his mouth, as he keeps a hand leveled on the wound to his chest. He's not got a lot of time either.

Desperately he fiddles with the comm in his ear, wondering if anyone will pick it up. There's still static. There's a small gasp of recognition on the other end, and he smiles – the pain turning it quickly to a grimace – as her voice fills his ear.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Of course she's scolding him. But as long as she understands. He's finding it difficult to breathe and he's never been the best with words, but as long as she understands.

_Please let her voice be the last thing he hears._

"You're safe aren't you?"

She's an 0-8-4. He's known that for a while now. She told him herself. He still isn't sure what that means but he knows she's something he has to protect.

"I didn't need you to protect me, Grant."

0-8-4 or not, he would have protected her regardless. Seeing her at the doors of death once was enough. He knew he didn't have the strength to go through that again.

_Is that selfish?_

"No. You didn't. But I _wanted_ to protect you, Skye."

She doesn't answer him. He wonders if that is all they get. So much he still has to tell her and-

"It was my choice."

"How bad is it?"

_You said I was a robot._

He refuses to give her an answer. He wants to fill the silence with something else; anything that isn't the bullet hole in his chest and the way his body feels like it's made with ice. He shivers.

She can't know.

_It's for the best._

"Please, Ward. I-"

"It's cold."

His back is up against the door he used to separate them. He wonders if they're already halfway to the bus by now. He hopes so.

He thinks most of the guys were taken out in this; what he now knows is his last stand. They won't be able to get to her and the team will be on the other side of the world before the mysterious higher-ups who want her for whatever purpose catch on. At least that's his wish. If he has to die here, and leave them all, then he thinks the universe at least owes him that.

_Am I a hero?_

"I'm sorry."

What does she have to be sorry for? She didn't ask to be an 0-8-4. She didn't ask to be hunted. She didn't ask for any of this. But she took it. And she hardly let it get to her. She was still the same Skye he had come to know. She still cared, was still compassionate. If he was honest, sometimes he was jealous of the way she could just _handle_ things.

"_I'm_ sorry."

_Please forgive me._

Even though he was always sure this was how it would end - there is no other way in his line of work - he's not sure he even contemplated the stark reality of it. Maybe he always believed someone would be there in the end anyway.

_Maybe she is._

"There are…so many things I should have…I should have…"

He hasn't regretted anything so much in a long time.

"It's okay, Grant, I know."

She understands and that's all he wanted. Maybe that's enough to let go. He can barely keep his eyes open.

_Pieces solving a puzzle._

_ one_

_Super spy is ticklish._

_ two._

_If you ever need to talk, my shoulder's free._

_ three._

Maybe he'll be forgiven but he just needs to know or needs to say .

_He needs to breath._

"Skye, I-"

The words die on his lips, unsaid and unfinished.


End file.
